


Some Princes Don't Become Kings

by Listenerofshadows



Series: Sander Sides One-Shots [8]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fantasy AU, Gen, Logan is the court sorcerer, Major Character Death TW, Patton is the court healer, Platonic LAMP - Freeform, Roman is a prince burdened with a prophecy, Virgil is his younger brother who lives in his shadows, angst tw, blood mention, violence tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 07:04:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Listenerofshadows/pseuds/Listenerofshadows
Summary: “He shall die with friends gazing over him, wearing a cloak of red.”Roman never forgot the look in the seer’s eyes. There was a heaviness in their eyes when they looked upon him, as if staring at an entirely different image. Since that day forward, it lurks in the back of his mind constantly. He smells copper in his nightmares, followed by those eyes gazing down at him. A hand reaches forward, their fingers gently pulling his eyelids shut like a veil, plunging his world into darkness. Fantasy AU





	Some Princes Don't Become Kings

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to take a break from my Big Bang fic and finish this one-shot that’s been in my wips for over two months now. This was inspired by tumblr user gamamaro's art piece under the same title as the fic.

It is in the cavern of the tallest mountain in the kingdom where they find her. The Dragon Witch is what she is called. A dark sorceress who has been attacking their villages for weeks now, weakening the kingdom little by little. With the power of an amulet she stole from the castle’s treasury, she has the potential to overthrow the kingdom if they don’t put an end to this madness.

The two princes, a sorcerer and a magi healer enter her dwelling. Prince Roman, champion of the people, has never been one to let others fight in his stead. His younger brother Prince Virgil accompanies out of worry for Roman’s recklessness. As the most powerful sorcerer in the lands, it is only logical that Logan goes with them. Patton, a magi healer of the court, refuses to be left behind once he hears about their plan.

They sneak out of the palace under the guards’ noses with the help of Logan’s magic. The Queen and King do not approve of this venture. They don’t believe the claims that it is the Dragon Witch attacking the villages and not merely a wild dragon. They refuse to listen to Logan’s advice to kill her before the devastation becomes worse.

That is why they are currently engaged in battle with a witch that is currently transformed into a thirty-foot fire-breathing dragon. Roman is separated from the others, forced to run the opposite direction to avoid being fried to death.

Logan is knocked off his feet after a powerful spell, and that’s when the dragon-witch made a move to rake her claws through the three of them.

“NO!” Roman calls out, leaping in front of them—attempting to hit her with his sword.

The Dragon Witch swiped at him, knocking him against the wall of the cave. Roman tries to stand, collapsing with muffled scream. With a scoff, she turned her gaze on the others once more.

“ROMAN!” Patton and Virgil’s voices screeches. Logan remains silent.

Through his hazy vision, Roman sees that the sorcerer clenches his jaw, eyes blazing with anger as he strikes his staff in the Dragon Witch’s direction. She doesn’t let him have a chance to shout out an offensive spell, however.

A gust of flames strikes out in tendrils towards the others, and Logan is forced to put a shield around them. Logan’s shield shimmers before he starts showing physical signs of exhaustion. Logan is forced into a kneeling position; his hands clutches tightly to his staff as he concentrates all his energy on maintaining the shield. Patton urgently presses a hand on Logan’s back, muttering incantations of his own. He is lending energy to Logan, Roman realizes. But it wouldn’t be enough.

The fire of the Dragon Witch keeps spewing out in waves. The amulet glittering from her neck only amplifying her power. She doesn’t have to rely on her own energy like Logan and Patton. She could keep on going for hours on end and never once get winded. Roman spots his sword laying a few feet away from him and glances back at the Dragon Witch. He grits his teeth as he rose on unsteady legs, gripping the wall for support. His vision blurs, and everything becomes dizzy for a moment. No, he couldn’t allow himself to succumb to the pain just yet.

He could not lay on the floor and watch his brother and friends die. He could not call himself a prince if he couldn’t protect his subjects.

He picks up his sword and took slow purposeful steps towards the Dragon Witch. She does not a take a glance his direction, arrogant enough to assume he is no longer a threat. Once he draws close, he took off with a running sprint and brought his sword down, cutting the amulet clean off her neck.

The Dragon Witch’s tormented screams echoed throughout the cave, her bones crackles and pops as she transforms back into her human form. If he hasn’t just seen her as a vicious beast, Roman would’ve mistaken her for as a simple maiden. Nothing indicates maliciousness from her scarlet curls to her worn blue slippers. Except for the cold look in her eyes.

“Oh please spare me, my lord! It wasn’t me—it all the amulet’s—”

She gasps as her words were cut off by the piercing of Roman’s sword through her chest.

“You don’t fool me,” Roman glares, “Only those of dark hearts seek out the amulet. I will not have you harm my kingdom a moment longer.”

“MO—MONSTER!” Her pretty face morphs into the ugly creature that she was. She screams other insults at his face, thrashing until Death finally took her.

He turns his head to face the others, noting absently at the great difficulty it had taken to complete that simple action. He expected to see their faces light up with triumphant joy. A smirk on his baby brother Virgil’s face as he gave a sarcastic remark. A sigh of relief from Logan as he rattled off how reckless Roman had been for the hundredth time. A beaming smile from Patton as he gushed how proud he was of Roman.

Instead, they looked horrified. Patton slowly reaches out to him, hand shaking. Roman’s eyebrows furrows. He tries taking a step forward towards Patton, to comfort him. To reassure the healer that the Dragon Witch was truly gone and would no longer be able to terrorize the kingdom.

He takes one step forward and collapses. Virgil screams.

* * *

Not all princes become kings.

Crown Prince Edward died in a fire. Terrence, Prince of Kalos, died of pneumonia. Prince Alexander II died from a fall from his horse.

His tutors drilled the names of his lineage into his head from the time he could scarcely read.

Truly, he was privileged to be born the heir of a kingdom unbounded in all its riches. But did not mean his hands were soft and free of any callouses due to his luxurious lifestyle. No, they were toughened and weathered from years of gripping a sword and horseback riding. He never worried about the thought of going hungry, but he did not indulge in sugary treats. As a child, he took delight in evading his tutors to explore the castle gardens or take a ride on his steed. But as he grew older, he set aside juvenile urges and drudged through his studies willingly.

He found he quite liked learning to speak romantic languages and reading Greek tragedies. He recited poetry with such poise that his tutors remarked if he was not royalty, he’d make an excellent actor.

For Roman is the Crown Prince, set to become King the day of his father’s departure from this physical realm. He must be strong enough to lead the kingdom into battle, but wise enough to rule in peacetime. He must, and so he is. There is not a doubt in anyone’s minds that Roman will be a great king, for everyone knows the prophecy.

When Roman was young, a seer of great renown visited the court. They wore a blue billowing cloak with golden accents that shimmered in the sunlight which streamed from the windows. Their hair furled up around the hood, the stark white betraying their wizened age. Their figure was small and unassuming, but they held themselves with the stature of a brazened warrior that one was forced to acknowledge their presence. Even Roman’s father, the King, seemed to bow his head in respect.

“We are most honored to have you—” The King bellowed out, but the seer ignored his greetings, and fixated on Roman who stood to the right of his father’s throne.

Roman shivered under their scrutinizing gaze. A murmur rippled through the court, as noblemen theorized what this held in store for the boy prince. The seer’s hand raised upwards, and the crowd grew to a hush.

“He shall die with friends gazing over him, wearing a cloak of red.”

The Queen and King were overenjoyed. Surely this was good news. Only the king was permitted to wear a red cloak. Their son would live long enough to succeed the throne.

Roman never forgot the look in the seer’s eyes. There was a heaviness in their eyes when they looked upon him, as if staring at an entirely different image. Since that day forward, it lurks in the back of his mind constantly. He smells copper in his nightmares, followed by those eyes gazing down at him. A hand reaches forward, their fingers gently pulling his eyelids shut like a veil, plunging his world into darkness.

He is hailed as a prince destined for greatness, infallible to the whims of disease and man. It is fate and not skill that kept him alive from numerous assassination attempts. The attempts stop around his twenty-fourth birthday; in the eyes of the enemies and allies everywhere, he is untouchable.

Roman keeps up the façade. He plays the part of a bold and fearless prince. He tells himself it’s because the kingdom needs this. They need the reassurance that the kingdom will be in good hands. They need it in order to live free of stress for the future. But truthfully, he does it because he needs it. He needs to believe that he will become King, and he will die after a long and noble rule. He needs to believe his name will be listed among the Greats, and not just another name in the long, expansive lineage.

Not everyone held the same interpretation of the prophecy. Logan, the court sorcerer, worried it meant other things.

“Roman, of all the reckless things—” Logan sighs, “I don’t even know where to begin on how many ways you’ve died. The list is—is infinitesimal!”

“Logan, you know I can’t die,” Roman chuckles as he fiddles with his bandages, “Why, there isn’t even a hint of grey in my hair!”

“Roman,” Logan says gently, resisting eye contact, “Prophecies often use figurative language. Have you considered…that a cloak of red might not be referring to kingship?”

It sounds unnatural to Roman’s ears. Logan is a skilled craftsman with words—his voice sharp and reedy as he points out numerous flaws in Roman’s thought processes. It could be steady and grounding, like the gentle rain of a spring shower as he reassured Roman of comforting facts. It sometimes grew high and hysterical when he lost his temper. But never soft and broken, like one who might use when conversing with someone on their deathbed.

Roman wants to cry. He laughs instead, laughs until his chest ached and his lungs give out on him. He pats Logan on the back as he wheezes for breath.

“Good joke, Wiz! You almost got me there!” He smiles.

“Roman for once in your life stop being an idiot and—"

“Silence!” Roman roars, “I will speak no more of this! Your Prince commands you!”

Logan stiffens, his eyes widening at the prince’s outburst. For all their bickering, Roman never abused his princely powers on Logan.

“Look. I’m tired, I’m going to bed.” Roman sighs, limping off to his chambers.

“Roman—”

He halts, looking at Logan from the corner of his eye.

“Let me have this, Logan.” He whispers underneath his breath, “I—I need this.”

He doesn’t know if Logan heard those words. But the topic never came up between them after that. From time to time, however, Roman catches Logan casting strange looks at Roman. He doesn’t question it when the sorcerer starts tagging along on his adventures out of his own volition. He claims he comes for “Research purposes” but Roman knows otherwise.

 

* * *

 

“Tis but a flesh wound,” Roman tries joking, gazing upwards at their worried faces. He doesn’t have enough strength to attempt rising.

“Roman don’t joke at a time like this!” Virgil pleads, pulling his brother’s upper half into his lap.

There’s so much blood, it’s hard to tell what is from him and what is from the dragon witch. Blood is still pouring out of him like a fountain. Everything hurts, and his senses are muffled as Patton draws runes on him with a shaky hand.

“Please, please, please,” Patton mumbles under his breath as he clasps his hand together.

The runes weakly light up, and the bleeding starts to lessen. But it’s not enough—it won’t be enough.

“No.” Patton says, closing his eyes and quickly scribbling another rune.

“Work!” Patton demands, activating another rune. Nothing happens.

“It has to work!” Another rune glows, even fainter than before, “Work, damn it!”

Patton sobs, his whole body shaking as he tries drawing yet another rune. He looks almost translucent, and that is when Roman realizes that Patton’s mana is completely drained.

“Patton,” Roman summons enough energy to cup his face with his hand that is stained with his own blood. The healer freezes, tears streaming down his face.

“I’m so—sorry,” He blubbers, “I’m so, so sorry Roman! I can’t—I can’t—”

“Shh, don’t cry sweet Patton. You can’t change…destiny.” His hand slips from Patton’s face, falling back to the ground.

Logan stands off to the side, examining the chaos that is playing out in front of him. Roman sees the realization dance across his face. He looks down at Roman’s gaze, seeking confirmation. Roman would’ve nodded at him if he had the strength to, but even bobbing his head is too much effort.

“Sa-say it, Logan,” Roman croaks.

“You knew all along.” Logan states, his voice frail and on the verge of breaking.

“What are you talking about, Logan?!” Virgil growls.

“Of course,” Roman chuckles darkly, “Dying as an old king full of regrets was never going to be my destiny. Besides, I couldn’t imagine not having my rugged good looks!”

Logan was right, as he often infuriatingly tended to be. The red cloak was never a red cloak—but a pool of his own blood. He will die surrounded by three of his closest confidents. For a moment, Roman is angry. He has so many things left unaccomplished. He wants so much more time with the others. He wonders if they know how much he cares for them. How much it pains him to leave them so soon. But he doesn’t regret sacrificing himself for them and the good of the kingdom for a second. He’s just so scared to leave them behind.

“Virgil, promise me you’ll take care of the kingdom for me, alright?” He looks up at his younger brother, smiling.

Everything is starting to feel fuzzy. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a hooded dark figure. A reaper is here for his soul.  _Just a little longer._ He begs the spirit.

“You can’t die, you’re supposed to be the king, not me!” Virgil holds onto his tighter, “Roman, stay with us!”

There’s so many things Roman wants to say to reassure Virgil. He knows his parents treated him wrongly, like an unnecessary spare that collected dust. He knows that he made things worse by following his parents’ example until he finally realized it was wrong. He knows Virgil never prepared to be the ruler of their kingdom.

He wants to tell them that things will be alright, that Virgil had always been the rightful ruler and not Roman. He wants to tell him that he has no doubt that Virgil will be a great ruler. He wants to tell him that to lean on Patton and Logan for support and not to isolate himself.

But the grim reaper draws close, and Roman knows he has no time to say any of that.

“You know,” He grins bitterly, “Some princes don’t become kings.”


End file.
